Album Reviews: The Grateful Dead - 50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition, and More

The rap on the Grateful Dead’s eponymous 1967 debut album—which the group mostly recorded in
just four days—is that they didn’t yet understand the studio and failed to
accurately represent what they could accomplish in concert. There’s some truth
in that. Then again, as a bonus disc included with this 50th
anniversary reissue makes clear, their concerts at the time didn’t fully
suggest what they were capable of, either.

That doesn’t mean that
this package—the first in a series that will ultimately include 50th
anniversary editions of the rest of the group’s studio and concert catalog—isn’t
worth your attention. Yes, there’s some sloppiness in the playing and the songs
mostly eschew the long, experimental jams that came later. But they already
sound innovative; and to my ears, the rough edges are part of the charm of these
likably anachronistic early Dead excursions, which are loaded with energy and
infectious rhythm.

Jerry Garcia’s guitar
and Pigpen’s organ stand out on the nine-track original album, which has been
impressively restored and remastered for this reissue. Covers dominate: “Good
Morning, Little School Girl,” the Chicago blues standard that Sonny Boy
Williamson first waxed in 1937; “Sittin’ on Top of the World,” the country
blues classic, which also dates from the 30s; jug-band king Noah Lewis’s “New,
New Minglewood Blues” and “Viola Lee Blues,” the latter a 10-minute workout
that at least hints at the jazz explorations to follow; Jesse Fuller’s “Beat It on Down the Line”; Obray Ramsey’s “Cold Rain and Snow”; and the apocalyptic
“Morning Dew,” by Canadian folkie Bonnie Dobson.

The sole originals are
the propulsive “The Golden Road (to Unlimited Devotion),” which is credited to
the entire group; and Jerry Garcia’s guitar-heavy, vaguely political “Cream
Puff War.” Even more than the rest of the album, these tracks evoke
Haight-Ashbury days, especially if you listen closely to the words. (“Golden
Road” advises listeners to “light up smokin’ buddy, have yourself a ball,” and
it sounds as if the group took their own advice before writing these lyrics.)

Considering how much
live Dead material has already been released, it’s hard to believe that
anything noteworthy remained in the vaults. But this package’s bonus disc,
which preserves previously unreleased performances at the July 1966 Vancouver
Trips Festival, is well worth hearing as an example of embryonic Dead. It was
recorded about eight months before the release of the debut album and therefore
before many people outside San Francisco had even heard of the band. (“Tonight,
for your pleasure,” says the Vancouver MC, “we’re going to start off the
evening with a group from San Francisco. They’re called the Grateful Dead.”)

Like the debut LP, the
79-minute, 17-track concert contains mostly covers and includes little in the
way of extended jams. (Only two tracks clock in at more than six minutes.) The well-recorded
disc incorporates most of the songs that surfaced on the debut album (“Sittin’ on Top of the World,” “Cream Puff War,” “Viola Lee Blues,” “Beat It on Down the
Line,” “Good Mornin’ Little Schoolgirl,” “Cold Rain and Snow,” and “New, New
Minglewood Blues”) plus numbers that would later become associated with the
Dead, such as the traditional “I Know You Rider” and Dylan’s “It’s All Over
Now, Baby Blue.” Also here are a strong cover of “Dorsey Burnette’s 1960 single
“Hey Little One” and a few lightweight obscurities that understandably soon
vanished from the repertoire, including “Cardboard Cowboy,” “You Don’t Have to
Ask,” and Standing on the Corner.”

This expanded reissue
may not evidence all of the expertise and innovation that came later, but it
does conjure up a musically and culturally important era, and most of it is
highly listenable.

BRIEFLY NOTED

Bill Scorzari, Through
These Waves. The first two minutes of this album
left me expecting a collection of jazzy, new-age instrumentals, but then Scorzari’s
arresting voice entered the mix as he sang, “I woke up this morning with a
dream of you, the sun was shining on the morning dew,” and I realized I was in
for something else entirely. Scorzari’s songs are consistently profound,
poetic, and emotional; and his voice—as gravelly and compelling as Tom
Waits’s—is counterpointed beautifully with strings and, on the gorgeous “More
of Your Love,” a female vocalist. This is one of the most compelling albums by
a little-known artist that I’ve heard in a while.

Billy T Band, Reckoning. Billy T, aka William Troiani, is a
New York native who has lived in Norway since 1997. He spent a decade working with
the incomparable Tom Russell and has also backed up artists as varied as Nanci
Griffith and Lightnin’ Hopkins. This is his fourth record with his own band,
which includes trumpet and tenor sax players and a string section (violin,
viola, cello). The group is top-notch and Troiani’s soulful vocal are sublime. On
tracks like “Sad Man” and “I’ve Been a Fool,” the music sounds reminiscent of
the best of 1960s Philly soul and Stax/Volt.

Lawrence Morrill Glass, Neanderthal.
Last fall, I
praised a five-song EP from Glass that showcased his amiable vocals and
addictive folk/pop compositions. Now comes a full-length CD that combines four
of the EP’s five tracks with seven additional noteworthy originals. Glass is impossible
to pigeonhole: one minute he’s singing traditional pop/rock love songs (“The
Habit of You”), the next he’s offering “Tina Fey,” a tongue-in-cheek ode to the
comedienne/actress; then comes the touching, violin-spiced “Lou Reed Died,”
which includes deft references to Reed’s “Satellite of Love” and “Vicious.” Somehow,
it all fits together.

Jeff Burger (byjeffburger.com), a longtime magazine editor, has written about music, politics, and popular culture for more than 75 periodicals. His books include Dylan on Dylan: Interviews and Encounters, Lennon on Lennon: Conversations with John Lennon, Springsteen on Springsteen: Interviews, Speeches…